Next To You
by Pied Piper
Summary: When five friends plot to set up their adult children on blind dates, the hilariously complex results turn out to be everything they never knew they wanted. [AU]
1. Chapter 1

**Next to You**

* * *

**Summary**: When five friends plot to set up their adult children on a blind date, the result is everything they never knew they wanted. [AU]

* * *

_When the money's spent and all my friends have vanished  
And I can't seem to find no help or love for free,  
I know there's no need for me to panic  
'Cause I'll find him, I'll find him next to me._

"Next to Me," Emeli Sandé

* * *

On a sunny autumn day, all hell broke loose.

Always presentable and forever reserved, Tachikawa Satoe barely blinked an eye as her twenty-seven-year-old daughter burst through the kitchen doors, her pretty face flushed in anger. The younger woman raised an accusing, shaking finger, "I can't believe you!"

Choosing not to answer the cries, though knowing completely well what prompted them and inwardly cursing herself for another failure, Satoe continued to sip her tea gingerly, perched on a stool at the kitchen table, nibbling at the remnants of what had been one her better brunches from earlier that morning. A newspaper crossword puzzle lay stretched on the counter before her, and she twirled a freshly sharpened wooden pencil absentmindedly with her free hand.

"_Mother, I'm talking to you_!"

Satoe finally turned and peered at her child from over the top of her glasses. She frowned. "Darling, you know how awful your face wrinkles up when you pout so."

Her daughter let out a sharp screech that actually did make Satoe wince ever so slightly. Well, that ruined the fun of being nonchalant. She demanded finally, exasperated, "Oh, what is the matter?"

"He's married!"

"Now that's not _entirely_ true," emphasized Satoe. "I don't see how that has anything to do with accepting a normal invitation to—,"

"You don't _see_ it?" repeated her daughter in furious shock. "Mother, a complete and utter _stranger_ showed up at my apartment door this morning because _you_ ran into him at office after he'd finished filing his divorce papers! Do you honestly _not_ see the many wrongs about this situation?"

She threw up her hands, her face crumpled into a frenzied disbelief of panic, then clenched her fists and shut her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she lowered her arms and then came to stand on the other side of the kitchen table, saying as calmly as she could, "Let me explain something to you."

Satoe channeled all her energy into not rolling her eyes at this nearly seasonal routine of theirs, placing her glasses and pencil down on the table and folding her hands in her lap. She mirrored her daughter's golden brown eyes, smiling kindly and politely. "I'm listening."

Her daughter began in a slow, quiet tone, "Please stop setting me up with men. Please stop giving out my number to strangers, stop telling asking everyone you meet if they have sons who are single, stop looking through the classifieds and for God's sake please stop using my picture on online dating sites!"

She took another deep breath to keep her temper in check. "I know you are only doing this because you care about me and you want me to be happy. But you have to stop, Mama. This is getting out of hand."

And to prove her point, she took her phone out of her purse and slid it across the table to show her mother the latest text she had received from another failed setup: _ur hot, like ur mom. she said 2 tell u that. let's work sumthin out, yeah?_

"Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Satoe nodded, though in her mind she cursed herself again. Darn, failure number two, and it wasn't even two o'clock in the afternoon yet. Her husband was right; she was slipping. But she was clever enough to keep these thoughts to herself as she meekly offered her daughter a quiet apology, "Yes, darling. I know. I do apologize."

Her daughter sighed in relief. "Thank you."

Satoe picked up her pencil, placing her glasses back on, "Now go change out of that ridiculous blouse, darling. We have a guest for dinner and that color will clash with his blue eyes. How on earth will you get him to look at you if your clothes hurt his eyes?"

"_Mother_!"

* * *

Takaishi Natsuko waited until she was sure her son had wandered away towards the garden patio to rush for her purse on the hallway table and grab for her phone. She scrolled hurriedly through the numbers in her contact list and finally came to the one she wanted. Hitting the dial button, she held the phone to her ear, pacing nervously and biting fingernails, until at last she heard the click of the answering tone and a low, husky voice answer, "Hello?"

She gasped in relief, "Hiro, we have a problem."

Her ex-husband stifled a yawn. "Nat, it's four in the morning."

"No, it's not—," started Natsuko, and then she paused, guiltily realizing, "You're on your trip, aren't you?"

"Day nine of ten," admitted the older gentleman, still yawning. "And I have an early flight…."

"Well, we still have a problem."

"Which is…?"

She paused for dramatic effect, head bent low, "He's broken up with another one."

Ishida Hiroaki lay in his hotel bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering why he still answered calls from her sometimes. "Who did?"

"What do you mean 'who'? Our son! Our son, Hiro! Our son is single!"

He rubbed his face with a hand. He really needed to put his phone on silent at night.

"You really have nothing to say?"

"You tell me what to say, how about that?"

She swallowed a retort and did so, "You should say that you will allow me to introduce him to the daughter of your—,"

Hiroaki sat up straight, bed sheets falling off his chest, "Absolutely not."

Even though she knew he couldn't see, she still stamped her foot. "Hiro!"

"No, Nat!"

"You don't want him to be happy!"

"And you won't let him be happy!" hissed her ex-husband back. "He'll be fine, Natsuko. He is an adult, a grown man. Things happen, this is normal. You need to let this be. Don't you remember the last time we tried intervening in our children's personal lives?"

She waved her hand, again knowing full well he couldn't see the gesture, though it was impossible not to react physically to his lack of logic sometimes. "That was just one mistake, and she was a bad apple anyway. This time, I know that it will work."

"It's none of our business," he said sternly.

"It is all of our businesses! These are our children, Hiro. I want them to be happy. And if I can help him be happy then you can damn sure expect I will do whatever I can to help them along."

He sighed, lying back down on the bed, eyes closed. He knew that tone of voice, and in his head wished his older son the best luck in the world for what Hiro knew would be coming next. "Fine."

"So you'll call them tomorrow?"

"Fine."

"And you will ensure that they will agree to the meeting?"

"Fine."

She paused. "I'm so glad we can agree about things."

"So am I, Nat."

She smiled hesitantly, and then mischievously, listening to the lingering silence on the he phone. "Please do tell your bedmate I apologize for waking her."

Hiro's eyes snapped open, "How did you know?"

But she'd already hung up, laughing, leaving him thoroughly convinced his ex-wife was as irresistibly cunning as they came.

* * *

At about four o'clock in the afternoon, a call came into the main reception of the city's biggest family law practices. The receptionist glanced at the caller idea as she juggled through the stacks of papers and files on her desk, then dropped all of said materials in her haste to answer, heart beating at sight of his name.

"What's wrong?" gasped Izumi Yoshie, the panic loud and clear in her otherwise soft and tender voice.

"What? Nothing—,"

"Are you sick? Is it the flu? Did you get your vaccines? Should I call your doctor?"

"Mom!"

"Oh, I'll call him right now! Do you need groceries? Should I bring you some juice?" She looked around the reception room worriedly, "I'm sure I could find someone to sit at the desk if you need me to come over!"

"Mom, I'm fine! I am just calling to—,"

"Tell me you're already at the hospital?" screeched Yoshie in a tiny, scared voice.

Her son groaned on the other side of the phone, "To tell you happy birthday, Mom. Okay?"

Yoshie paused. "Oh. Of course. I'm sorry, you know how I worry with you."

Her son chuckled lowly, amused. "You are the most adorable woman I have ever known, and I love you. I will see you for dinner tonight?"

She beamed, "I am looking forward to it. Is your friend still joining us?"

"Ah…no."

Her face fell. "Oh, sweetheart…."

"It just didn't work out. I'm all right."

"I'm sorry, my darling. I know it hurts."

He took a deep breath, "It's all right, Mom. Thanks. But I'm sorry if you have to go through the trouble of cancelling the extra seat in the reservation for dinner. Do you think it will upset the restaurant too much?"

"Oh no, I don't think so. I'm sure your father will take care of it."

"Okay. I just didn't want to make it a big fuss. I want this night to be about you, Mom."

"Nothing will change tonight, dear. I'm happy if you are." She smiled through the phone. "And don't worry. I will tell your father to handle the reservation change. You just take care until then, all right?"

"Sure, Mom. Happy birthday."

"Thank you, my baby." She smiled again, ending the call. She stared at the receiver carefully, frowning to herself. Then she pushed her chair back, stood up, and smoothed her hair and clothes before walking over to the door beside her desk. Hesitating just for a minute, she knocked once, then again more surely. She listened for the low voice on the other side of the door to grant permission before entering.

Beaming, she stepped into the room. "Hello, Mantarou. I hope I'm not bothering you?"

"Oh, no, Yoshie. How can I help you?" Inoue Mantarou smiled widely at her.

She stepped closer to his desk, lowering her voice a little. "Well, it's about tonight. Something came up, and I was just wondering…didn't you say you had a sister visiting this week?"

* * *

Once they entered the grocery store, Yagami Yuuko watched her oldest child steer himself straight to the aisle with the free samples, hungrily grabbing at the variety of meats and cheeses spread over a tray between the deli sections. She rolled her eyes and followed after him, silently marveling at how age did nothing to change some habits. For example, here she was with a grown man for a son, who behaved like he did when he had been a child, his brown eyes lighting up at the first sign of delicious free foods.

Meanwhile, her youngest child trailed quietly behind her, pushing the shopping cart dotingly. The young woman browsed the shelves with an intense interest in the qualities and labels of the products, singularly focused in a way that Yuuko's son seemed not to have inherited from the gene pool. But her daughter—well, Yuuko was proud to say success ran in at least one line in her family.

However, this good feeling soon passed as Yuuko walked by a young couple and their toddler son, who was seated in the child's spot of their shopping trolley. The little baby beamed at her, his face smeared with what appeared (and she hoped) was jam. Yuuko smiled back and waved, then sighed to herself as she moved away from the sweet family.

That's what she wanted, and that was the success that didn't seem to follow either of her children.

Now she knew she was being a little dramatic, but in truth, it was her husband who had first planted this disconcerting restlessness within her for her children's marital and family future. One evening, not too long ago, Susumu had turned to her after dinner and said in no less terms, "If these kids don't give me grandchildren, I won't give them an inheritance."

Yuuko had chided her husband for his dramatics at the time, but since then all her friends seemed to have entered into that golden age of grandparenthood, and she was soon finding herself lusting after the same fairytale ending. At one point, she even considered setting her children up on dates just out sheer desperation to make these dreams come true for herself.

However, she insisted she was better than her friends in this regard.

For one, she was far more careful about her secretive attempts at setting her children up. And for second, she had succeeded.

Well, sort of.

Her son's ex-wife was one example. Apart from the fact that their relationship ended on a rather violently emotional note, it had been a successful match up until that point. In many ways, Yuuko was still proud of that fact, and proud of the fact that one of her selections had gotten that far to the altar. It was farther than any of her friends had gotten at least. Yuuko had smugly reminded them of it many times.

As for her daughter, Yuuko had introduced her to her current boyfriend, a well-meaning and mild-mannered research scientist who was sweet, kind, nurturing, supportive—so perfect for her beautiful daughter that it broke Yuuko's heart to know deep down inside that the couple were deeply unhappy. That was Yuuko's greatest disappointment, even more so because she was too afraid of speaking to her daughter about what they both knew. It was like waiting for the end times with both eyes shut tight.

In either case, Yuuko had sworn to herself she had given up the matchmaking game.

Yet as she stood there, watching her two grown children bicker in their quintessentially sibling way over the last sample piece of warm French bread, Yuuko wished she could get her happy ending, for the both of them.

So, in a spontaneous move that would startle her husband later that evening when she confessed to him what she was about to do, she darted into the canned food aisle, away from her children's eyes and ears, and fished her phone out of her clutch purse.

"Hello, Toshiko? Hi, it's Yuuko, from the—oh, good, you remember me! Listen, I know this is rather strange, but I was wondering if you still had the number of the woman we met at the market the other day? Your old friend from university? I think the family name was….Motomiya, yes, that's it. Well, I wanted to ask about her children…you see, I have two children as well, and—well, basically, I think it's time we try to meet…."

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm back with a silly little comedy of errors. Should be fun. I have five chapters written and planned to completion, so unless inspiration strikes, this story is ready to be read. I hope you enjoy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Next to You**

* * *

**Summary**: When five friends plot to set up their adult children on a blind date, the result is everything they never knew they wanted. [AU]

* * *

_When the money's spent and all my friends have vanished  
And I can't seem to find no help or love for free,  
I know there's no need for me to panic  
'Cause I'll find him, I'll find him next to me._

"Next to Me," Emeli Sandé

* * *

Motomiya Daisuke waited at the table nervously. He kept checking his watch, not sure what he was really doing there, especially after the fiasco of the morning so far. Not only had did he have to temporarily move in with his scatterbrained older sister following the unfortunate premature ending of his lease (he'd been evicted), he had also gotten a phone call waking him up with the news that the job he was certain he had the highest chances to get fell through, leaving him unemployed for the fourth month in a row.

The news drove him to empty out the kitchen of all its cereal and milk, which caused another fight with his sister, reminiscent of their childhood squabbles. He hadn't known why she'd been so upset about the lack of milk seeing as how she normally hated the stuff. He'd been about to pass it off as another one of her crazy fad diets when, on his way out the door to go to the corner marker, he saw the unfamiliar pair of men's shoes, and the pieces fell together.

He'd hightailed it out of the apartment, leaving his sister and her overnight guest far behind and wincing all the way to the café next door to his best friend's workplace, having told Ken on the way to meet him there for his lunch break. And here was where he waited, pouring over the want ads in the newspaper and drinking his weight in decaffeinated tea.

The door chimed and in stepped the most beautiful woman Daisuke had ever seen. He froze in his place, hand poised to bring his cup of tea to his lips, but he couldn't move his eyes from her. He watched her glance about the café quickly, almost anxiously, and then head straight to the table in the corner, setting her purse on the chair opposite the booth against the wall, which she took for herself. The waitress came over to clear old cops of the table, and Daisuke overheard her apologizing to the girl for the mess. The girl waved it aside graciously and asked for her "usual," and afterwards took out a book and began reading, her foot tapping nervously, and her eyes never moving over the words.

Daisuke set his tea down and quickly motioned for the waitress.

"Need another refill?" she smiled widely at him.

"Uh, yeah, actually."

"Sure thing," the woman winked at him, but he interrupted quickly,

"And this might sound weird, but has that woman come in here before?" Daisuke gestured at the girl in the corner, still unable to take his eyes off her.

The waitress's smile faded slightly, but she recovered enough to stammer in relative calmness, "Once a week. One of our regulars."

"Around this time?"

"Every Thursday," murmured the waitress, staring at her notepad of orders.

Daisuke nodded distractedly. "Thanks…."

The waitress left without a word to fetch his refill, and Daisuke folded up the newspaper, running through all the pick-up lines he could think of in his head, trying to sort out the good ones. Just as he decided on a sure-fire one, the door opened again and Ken appeared in front of him, wrapped up in a warm fall scarf, his face pale and exhausted.

"Sorry about the job, Dai," he said, sitting down to join him at the table.

Daisuke hissed at him, "Move over!"

"What?" Ken looked confused, following Daisuke's gaze to the girl in the corner. His eyes softened in understanding and he chuckled, "You always find a way back to being happy again, don't you, Daisuke?"

"Wait here a minute?" asked his friend, already halfway out of his seat.

"I really can't. Work is busy today, I can only spare a few minutes now."

Daisuke groaned, sitting back down.

Ken grinned, "You won't be complaining when you see this." He produced a memo from his pocket, and Daisuke grabbed the paper quickly. "They're hiring over at the branch downtown. I can put in a good word for you?"

"Ken, this stuff is way out of my experience range," said Daisuke in dismay. "There's no way I could get into something like this."

"Not with that attitude! Come on, what's there to lose?"

"You'd be surprised," muttered Daisuke. "And that's what I really wanted to talk to you about. I have to get out my sister's apartment. I can't stand it there anymore. We're going to kill each other, I know it."

Ken laughed, "Jun does have her quirks."

"Yeah, and they never clean up after themselves or behave politely at all."

His friend rolled his eyes as the waitress returned with Daisuke's fresh cup of tea. Ken grabbed it as soon as she left, taking a deep gulp. "I see it runs in the family then."

Daisuke shook his head, "Those days are behind me now, too. I'm done chasing girls, bringing home anyone who will. I don't want to be like that anymore, and being around Jun and her party lifestyle is just bringing me back to it. I need to get out, Ken. Can't I stay with you for a few days?"

Ken hesitated, "You know I would, but it's just that—,"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, Hikari…." Daisuke sighed.

His friend noted the disappointed look on the man's face with sympathy. "But listen, I'll talk to her. Maybe her brother will be able to house you for a few days. He lives a little outside of town, but if you don't mind that—,"

"Anything," interrupted Daisuke desperately. "I'll take anything."

Ken laughed, "Okay, I'll call you about it later. I've got to get back. Do me a favor and think about the job downtown?"

Daisuke nodded, but as Ken stood up, his gaze fell back on the girl in the corner, her nose buried deep into that book now, her brows creasing cutely as she concentrated.

Ken waved a hand in front of his face. "Please promise me you will?"

"I promise, I promise," Daisuke motioned him off. "Get out!"

* * *

"I know this is a weird thing to ask, but it would mean a lot to me." Yagami Hikari balanced her heavy grocery bag in the crook of her elbow, her phone nestled between her ear and shoulder as she fumbled for her apartment keys with her free hand. "Please?" she begged her brother.

"You're asking me to let a complete stranger into my home for a week, 'Kari," her brother protested. "What would you say if I asked you that?"

"Well, I would say that you are a thoughtful, compassionate, caring human being. And I'm lucky to have you as one of my blood relatives. And that—,"

"Stop laying it on so thickly, you know you'd never say any of that."

Hikari laughed, at last getting the door opened. She entered her apartments, kicking the door closed with her foot and dropping the groceries on the table in the tiny kitchen. "Actually, the difference between us is that I would say those things, and you'd just have Mom write them down for you in a store bought birthday card to me."

"Speaking of Mom, did you get that weird email?"

"The one about the dinner at her friend's gallery opening?"

"Yeah, since when did Mom have friends?"

"Oh, stop! And yes, I did get it. You'd better not be thinking of bailing."

"Would you want to go a dinner with your mom's middle-aged maybe-made-up-maybe-not friends and their probably weird as fuck kids? I mean, we don't even know this people. They could be terrorists. Or cannibals."

Hikari paused for dramatic effect. "You really think Mom would be friends with cannibals?"

"You've had her cooking."

She laughed out loud, then clamped a hand over her mouth, giggling. "You are the worst."

"I'll go if you go."

"Well, I am going. Ken is gonna be out of town though, so I think I'll invite Ken's friend. You can meet him then and decide if he's all right to stay over at yours until he gets his new place sorted. You should bring someone nice this time yourself."

"I'll put the notice out. Wanted: bucktoothed cannibal for embarrassing family dinner."

"You're the worst."

"Correction, the best. And tell Ken it's fine with me if his friend needs a place to stay. What's a week?"

Hikari raised an eyebrow, pleased. "Well, this is an unusual turn of events. What happened to the complete stranger concern?"

"If he's a friend of Ken's, he's probably of the highest caliber of strangers."

Hikari smiled quietly at the subtle compliment. "I'll see you at the dinner then?"

"Sure thing."

She ended the phone call, sorting out the groceries to put away. Then, suddenly, in the middle of recounting the oranges and tomatoes, she stopped, staring at the packaged food in front of her blankly. She couldn't explain it, how empty things felt, but it seemed to be ever more common in moments like this. It would just hit her, her utter and quiet despair. Was this her life? This early?

She placed a nervous hand over her stomach, rubbing it carefully.

It wasn't as though she weren't happy. But it wasn't as though she were happy, either.

Her eyes wandered over to the photographs that lined the apartment walls, falling onto an old snapshot of a group of smiling friends, her own face in the middle, eyes bright and cheerful. She scanned the faces, smiling to herself, until she came to the last face in the far corner. Her eyes began to prick slightly at the memories. Then, suddenly, she walked over and ripped the photograph from the wall, tossing it into the trash.

She had to move on.

She was thinking for two now—no, three. She had to move on.

* * *

Takenouchi Sora nervously eyed her date for the evening, unsure of how to respond to the question.

"Well," she began carefully, "I guess if I had to answer…I would choose fire-breathing dragon as my weapon of choice in a fantasy death match with the United Nations."

Yagami Taichi shook his fist victoriously, "That's exactly what I said!"

Sora laughed, smiling at him widely and he winked at her.

"Hey, you two," interrupted her date with pretend annoyance, "stop getting along so well."

The brown-haired man rolled his eyes mockingly, leaning back in the cab seat to tell the woman who sat in between him and his close associate at work, "He's a bit of the jealous type."

Sora giggled again, purring in Taichi's ear, "Should we give him a reason then?"

Kido Jyou protested, fumbling with his glasses when the cab swerved dangerously fast around street corner, "All right, all right!"

Taichi punched him playfully in the shoulder. "Relax, Kido. I just enjoy torturing you, and to be quite honest, I'm thrilled you managed to find a girl who enjoys torturing you just as much."

"I know, you two are a real laugh riot," muttered his coworker.

Sora leaned over and reassuringly kissed the bespectacled man on the cheek, squeezing his hand. He smiled at her, squeezing back. Then he asked his friend, "Are you sure your mother's friend won't mind us both joining dinner?"

Taichi waved it aside. "It's an open gallery show. No one's gonna notice anything, least of all, Mom. She's recovering from a cold and might not even come, according to Hikari. And it won't matter if she does anyway because I still have to get her back for the crazy girl she set me up with."

"Another one?" Sora was surprised. "Wow, she's a roll with you then."

"Tell me about it," Taichi rolled his eyes. "This girl was nuts. She talked miles per minute, had the most scatterbrained conversations—with herself, aloud—and I swear there was a voodoo doll in her purse."

"You can't go through a girl's purse!" protested Sora.

"I didn't!" exclaimed Taichi animatedly. "She emptied out her entire purse on the dinner table trying to look for her phone to take a picture of the meal. Everything came out—phones, post it notes, make up, earrings, voodoo dolls…"

Jyou shook his head. "Sounds like a character."

"Yeah, and the worst part was her bedroom was even more black magic-like—,"

"You went home with her?" asked Jyou in disbelief, leaning forward to look at his friend clearly.

"After voodoo dolls and everything?" piped Sora.

Taichi shrugged. "I'm only human."

Sora smacked him in the upper thigh, close to the crotch of his jeans, and he winced, shooing her hands away. "You're only male, you mean. Did you at least stay for breakfast this time?"

"I tried, honest I did, out of courtesy, but then she came back into the bedroom rambling about there being no milk in the fridge because of some maniacal brother of hers or whatever—and by that time it made no sense to stick around if there wasn't going to be breakfast."

Jyou groaned, "I changed my mind, Tai—_you_ are the character."

The cab came to a stop, and the three friends sorted out the fare before piling out onto the sidewalk. Taichi adjusted his jacket and Sora fixed her hair, smoothing her bangs as Jyou wrapped an arm around her waist. She smiled at him.

"Well," said Taichi, "here goes nothing."

* * *

As soon as Tachikawa Mimi stepped into the foyer of the gallery hall, cameras flashed in her face. She held up a hand, wincing from the blinding lights, and nearly stumbled in her stiletto heels when she tried to step back. That was when she felt a steadying hand come to rest on the small of her back, the strength behind them allowing her to come to a safe stillness. She looked behind her in confused surprise, but already the hand was guiding her away from the cameras and steering her to the refreshments table along the rear wall of the main hall.

She turned around and came face to face with familiar blue eyes. "Oh, it's you," she stammered, shocked.

"Nice to see you again," said Takaishi Takeru, smiling lightly. "How have you been?"

"Well," Mimi said, still confused. She glanced back at the cameramen lining up the entrance of the gallery. "I guess I didn't realize how big of an event this was."

"It's really not," Takeru confessed. "My father's agent just tends to take things over the top sometimes, especially on opening night."

Mimi's pretty brown eyes widened. "Your father?" She looked around at the photographs on the wall, "You mean these are your father's works?"

Takeru nodded proudly. "Every one. That's why I'm here."

Mimi was impressed, her eyes catching on a black and white portrait of a familiar face. "That's you!"

The tall blond laughed, "Actually, that's my brother. Don't worry though, we look a lot alike sometimes. People always confuse us."

Mimi hid her blush with an embarrassed hand, "Sorry."

He smiled at her again. In fact, he felt he couldn't stop smiling around her. "It's nice to see you again."

"You, too," said Mimi quietly.

The pair stood awkwardly at the refreshment table for a minute, unsure of the next move. Just as Takeru finally came up with the next topic of conversation, desperate to keep her talking to him, Mimi suddenly blurted out, "I have to apologize for my mother for that other day. It was so embarrassing. You were beyond gracious to humor her the way you did."

Takeru shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat, sheepish, "I would say it was nothing, but to be quite honest, I had a little bit of a selfish motive."

Mimi blushed again, flattered by his attentions. As much as she hated to admit it, her mother seemed to have found a nice one this time. No visible or immediately noticeable flaws so far, and though they hadn't met since the dinner at her parents' home a few weeks ago, due to conflicting schedules, they'd spoken now and then over email. But she wasn't ready to commit to anything so soon, and had admitted as much to him when his hints at a fourth date became too difficult to ignore, and she had been pleasantly surprised again by how well he'd accepted her explanation without protest. It had almost made her reconsider her three date policy.

"Just do me a favor, and don't tell my mom we get along," she said.

Takeru laughed. "I promise."

"Mimi!"

Immediately Takeru checked himself, stepping back to let the man who called her name step closer to them, distancing himself politely. He exchanged friendly smiles with the man, moving away to give them space.

Mimi smiled at her date, who looked a little out breath in his rush to arrive at the gallery to meet her. "How was the job hunt today?"

"Not bad," Daisuke said, kissing her hello on the cheek. He helped himself to a glass of champagne from the refreshment table, handing her one as well. They both took a sip, and he slipped a hand around her waist to guide her away from other guests for a private conversation. "Thank you so much for looking over my cover letter."

"It's no trouble at all," she smiled. "I bet you'll get it this time."

"And only thanks to you," he said with a grin.

"Daisuke?"

They both turned to look for the speaker, and found themselves face to face with a young, pretty, bob-haired brunette wearing a flattering yellow pencil skirt and white blouse. Her hands were clasped in front of her, holding a clutch purse.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said.

"Don't worry about, Hikari. It's nice to see you," he leaned in to kiss her hello on the cheek. "It's a shame Ken couldn't be here."

Hikari nodded in agreement. "He'll be here the next time, I'm sure."

Daisuke introduced his friend, "Mimi, this is Hikari. Hikari is a good friend. Mimi is my beautiful date for the evening," he winked at her.

The women's eyes met and Mimi smiled wordlessly.

"Hello," said Hikari politely. She turned her attentions to Daisuke, "Can I talk to you in private, actually? It's about Ken."

"Sure, of course. Do you mind?" he asked Mimi, squeezing her hand.

"I'll be fine," she said. "Go on. Find me later?"

"Always do," he said, kissing her cheek again.

Mimi watched them walk away, sighing to herself. Still holding her glass of champagne, she looked around the room casually, but was unable to spot Takeru anywhere. Feel awkward, she wandered off to look at the photographs by herself, beginning in a small backroom that featured prints of doorframes. No one else was inside, and from here it was difficult to see much of the other rooms and people in the gallery, allowing her to relax a bit, safe from strangers' gazes. She sighed, stretching her arms, and studied the photographs in the room. Her eyes were drawn to one in particular, of a green framed door situated in what appeared to be a dusty dirt road, the paint on the walls peeling orange. She stood there, admiring the color contrasts, when a voice sounded near her that she thought she'd never hear again.

"Look at you," said the man quietly.

Mimi turned, startled, in disbelief, and saw him staring back at her. He stood at the entrance to the small empty back room they both now occupied, looking as surprised to see her as she was of him.

Neither said anything for a few seconds, too stunned, trying to gather themselves again.

"I didn't think you'd come to something like this," she said finally.

He shrugged. "My mother's friend is the artist."

Mimi nodded distractedly. "Right."

"How did you get here?" he asked carefully.

"I'm on a date."

He couldn't hide his smile, though it was a wry, disillusioned one. "Classy."

She said nothing.

He sighed, running a nervous hand through his hair, and walked unsurely over to the photograph she'd been studying earlier, the one with the green door and orange walls. He smirked. "Remind of you anything?"

"Yes," she paused, "our inn from that summer in—,"

"Yeah," he interrupted, not wanting to visit that memory again.

Mimi sensed his discomfort and stopped speaking. She looked at him, studying his frame and face carefully. He worse a crisp, ironed button down tucked into jeans, dark brown shoes that matched the color of his smooth leather jacket, the collar pulled up around his neck for extra warmth. His profile highlighted his tall, athletic build, his pointed nose and sharp cheekbones, his deep brown eyes and their intensity of emotions.

He seemed to feel her gaze and met it back.

At once the heat crept into her pale cheeks with the guilt of being caught, and she looked away, smacking herself mentally for that completely inappropriate teenage girl gape.

It was a while before he spoke, and when he did, his words stole the breath from her lungs.

"How is it possible for me to find you this beautiful even when I hate you?"

She blinked several times, staring at the ground. "Do you hate me?"

"I want to."

She looked up sharply, surprised by the frankness of his tone. She had never seen his eyes so cold before. They looked unnatural, and yet determined. She felt the heat return to her face, but this time it was anger and frustration and hurt. "I don't deserve much else, right?"

He did not answer, turning his head away, mouth pressed into a thin line.

She shook her head, muttering under her breath. "Forget it. Forget it."

Taichi snapped, "What?"

She glared at him. "I said, _fuck you_."

She barely had moved away one step before he'd grabbed a hold of her shoulder.

Mimi yelled, "Fuck off, don't you touch me, don't you dare—,"

His kiss silenced the rest of the protest. Hands went around his neck, fingers grasping his face, his hair, pulling him close to her, pulling him into the kiss she'd been dreaming of her entire life, her life before him, with him, and even now, after him and after all they'd had before.


	3. Chapter 3

**Next to You**

**Summary**: When five friends plot to set up their adult children on a blind date, the result is everything they never knew they wanted. [AU]

* * *

_When the money's spent and all my friends have vanished_

_And I can't seem to find no help or love for free,_

_I know there's no need for me to panic_

_'__Cause I'll find him, I'll find him next to me._

"Next to Me," Emeli Sandé

* * *

It was winter. Natsuko had brought out the heated table and carpet, having advised her housekeeper to make sure all the windows and rooms were properly insulated from the blistering cold outside. It was in times like this that she longed for her childhood in rural France, where the temperature had been far more consistent. Here, it was anything but predictable.

And, on the subject of things that were not predictable—just as Natsuko settled down in her sofa with a hot cup of tea and a new book, her ex-husband called her home phone.

Her lips went immediately into a frustrated pout. This was the fourth call in three days from Hiroaki, and she told him as much when she answered.

"I know, I know," said her ex, sighing audibly. "But what am I supposed to do?"

"You were the one who wanted to have the boys over at yours for the long weekend," she reminded forcefully. "You should have been prepared for what that meant—,"

"How can grown children still behave like—like children?" he cried in frustration.

Natsuko laughed, "My dear, if you had been around for more of their childhood, you wouldn't be nearly as surprised. Brothers are brothers, no matter the age."

Hiroaki grumbled, "I never was this way with my brother…."

"That's because you don't ever talk to him, and you two weren't nearly as close either as youths or now. Yamato and Takeru's closeness is exactly the reason why they argue so much. You just have to let them be when they have their moments. Don't try to intervene. Let them work it out themselves, or else they'll turn it around on you."

"I wish you were here."

The comment, though spoken with a hint of amused, grateful laughter, made the breath catch in her throat. She swallowed the lump a little, brushing it off. "Well, I don't think Fumiko would like that very much."

"Fumiko's not here." Hiroaki paused, then repeated, "But you should be. Then it would be a proper family holiday. The boys would be happy."

Natsuko smiled a little, her fingers absentmindedly running over the pages in her book. "So would I."

She heard some voices in the background on his end of the line and quickly made her goodbye, not wanting to continue the moment. Hiroaki, sounding distracted, said he would have the boys call her to say their well wishes, and she agreed to be ready to accept the call around noon on Sunday. She set the phone down, sinking back into her chair, thinking, wondering, recalling.

If she had lingered on the phone call for a moment longer, she knew, she would have readily accepted Hiroaki's offer. But there was a line there, somewhere, in their friendship now, and recreating any sense of family in that way would probably not be wise. Natsuko had worked hard to maintain the relationship they had now, but even she knew that certain lines with one's exes should never be crossed.

* * *

It was winter. Hiroaki hung up the phone call with his ex-wife, musing a little, but mostly distracted by the loud commotion in the adjoining room that had caused the call to be ended in the first place. He rolled his eyes, walking into the living room to see exactly what he expected: Takeru face-planted into the tatami mat entangled in a fierce struggle with his elder brother, who was nearly seated directly on top of Takeru's chest. The pair were yelling some nonsense or another, indiscernible to their father as Takeru's face was buried into the ground and his brother's voice muffled by the arm that Takeru had slung over his mouth.

Hiroaki gingerly stepped over the siblings wrestled on the floor, stuck in a motionless stalemate, and went to the kitchen to take a beer out of the fridge.

"Your mother says hello," he told the pair on his way.

Takeru mumbled something into the ground again.

"Where's the beer?" Hiroaki cried in dismay, seeing the fridge empty. "I just went shopping last night!"

Another muffle, this time from his elder son.

Irritated, he yelled, "I'm going back to the store, and if I return and find either of you _not_ smiling, then you can be damn sure neither of you will for a very long time, do you understand?"

There was a slight pause, and then a muffle in unison, low and begrudging.

For good measure, Hiroaki slammed the door behind him, stomping down the stairs.

A cell phone on the coffee table beeped and the elder brother's attention immediately abandoned proving his physical superiority. "Get off me, I need to get my phone!"

Takeru finally managed to wrestle free, sitting up and sorely shoving his brother off of him. "You need to lose some weight," he scowled, brushing off his shirt.

The older blond man stood up and stretched, as though winning fights with his younger brother were something he did regularly and successfully…both of which were true. He leaned over the coffee table, grabbing his phone to check his messages, his fingers moving quickly over the touchpad to respond.

Takeru crawled back onto the couch, retrieving the TV remote, ownership of which had been the reason for the wrestling in the first place. Some things never changed, he supposed, glancing at his brother, who was now staring at his phone with a serious expression. "You all right?" It was the source of endless frustration and puzzlement for their parents how the brothers could switch from concern to apathy so effortlessly, though both of them knew it was typical of close sibling relationships.

His brother barely acknowledged him, his frown deepening.

"Yamato," called Takeru again. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes," he said finally, after a long moment. He looked up and smiled at his little brother. "Everything's fine."

Takeru was a little skeptical. "You know, you've been behaving awfully strangely these past few weeks."

"How so?"

"I've never known you to be so attached to your phone before, for starters."

Yamato waved the observation away. "It's just this promotion at work, Takeru. Countless emails. You're lucky you're self-employed."

Takeru shook his head, "Self-employment is far less exciting than you might think. If you only knew the sheer effort it takes getting out of bed in the mornings."

"For you?" Yamato scoffed. "Whatever happened to the early morning runs you used to take? You couldn't wait for mornings when you were training, as I recall."

Takeru couldn't hide his blush as he looked away. "Been busy…."

Yamato grinned slyly. "Well, well."

"You could do with getting out there yourself," Takeru responded, hoping to deflect the attention from his personal life. "Otherwise you know Mum will try setting you up with someone."

"We all know how successful that was the last time."

The brothers met each other's gazes and laughed aloud. "God, what a nightmare that was!" cried Takeru.

"I am sure she's learned her lesson by now," said Yamato in agreement.

Takeru chuckled a little. "Maybe, maybe not."

Yamato's eyebrow raised slightly. "Are you saying your latest…acquaintance, shall we say, was also our mother's doing?"

"No comment," refused Takeru, eyes turning back to the TV set.

Yamato smiled, looking at his phone again.

"Seriously, what are you looking at all the time?" demanded Takeru. "Even Dad's not on his phone that much, and Fumiko is the clingiest of—,"

"I'm the what?"

Both brothers looked up, startled, to see their father's girlfriend frowning suspiciously at them from the doorway of the apartment. Pocketing her key, she slipped into the hallway and shut the door behind her, carrying a bag of groceries to the kitchen. "What are you boys up to now? And where's your father?"

"Convenience store, I think," answered Yamato, smirking at an embarrassed Takeru.

"Do you need a hand with dinner, Fumiko?" asked Takeru, hoping to make up for his slip of tongue.

"No, that's all right. But would you set the table, please? Iori should be here soon and then we'll eat together."

"Sure thing!"

Yamato shook his head at how eager his younger brother sounded, slightly disapproving of his desire to be liked by authority figures. He sank lower into the couch while Takeru got up and went to the kitchen for the dishes and utensils, all the while remaining engrossed with the messages on his phone.

"Did you boys have a good day with your father?" Yamato heard Fumiko ask his brother.

"More or less," Takeru answered. "Dad's a bit grumpy today. I think he was a bit hungover from last night still."

"I really can't believe he still tries to play those drinking games with you. He's too old for them. You should be mindful of that next time you drink together, for his sake."

Takeru smiled, "You know Dad would sooner waste away then give up the chance to play those games. That's just the man he is—always has to be included."

Fumiko laughed and said something in response, but Yamato had stopped listening, feeling like his heart was beating faster while time seemed to stand still completely. His hand clutched the phone tightly, staring at the latest email in disbelief and perhaps something more.

_Let's meet._

* * *

It was winter. Taichi hesitated at the door of the restaurant, holding the handle. Through the glass windows he could see their friends inside, gathered at the tables, leaning intimately in conversation. He saw his friend's face brighten as their eyes met and Taichi smiled, entering at last.

"We were wondering when you'd get here," said Ken.

"When have I ever been on time to anything?" Taichi asked, taking the saved seat beside him.

"This is true," agreed Jyou as he swallowed the last of his water.

"Wait, where's Hikari?" Taichi noticed at last his sister's absence. He looked towards her boyfriend for an answer.

Ken shook his head, as disappointed as her brother. "She said she was busy today, a last minute meeting at work. But she did ask me to take your leftovers," he added with a knowing wink.

"It's like she doesn't know me at all!" cried Taichi in mock protest, while the others laughed at the idea of Taichi leaving any food on a plate.

"Well, now that you are here, can we order at least?" Sora asked. "I'm starving!"

"By all means," gestured Taichi, glancing at the menu in front of him.

Jyou called over the waiter, who smiled hospitably as he took down his, Sora's and Ken's order. Taichi was a few minutes more, scanning the items with a rumbling stomach. "They all look appetizing," he remarked.

"And they all are," responded the waiter.

"Then I'll have whatever the chef recommends."

"Of course."

"Could I have some more water, too?" asked Jyou, raising his glass. The waiter excused himself to pass along the orders, returning with a jug of water that he left on the table for them.

Sora said, "Well, now that we are all here—more or less—I wanted to take this time show everyone their…" she trailed off, rummaging in her purse, and brandished four red envelopes with glee, "presents!"

Ken laughed kindly, "What's the occasion?"

"No reason! Just something nice for the people in my life." She handed out the envelopes, giving Hikari's to Ken as well.

"Should we open it now?" asked Jyou, curiously lifting the envelope to the light and squinting at it.

"These look suspiciously like the 'I.O.U.' coupons you used to give out in grade school," commented Taichi after examining his.

"With age and wealth I have progressed beyond that," said Sora confidently. "I am sure you'll like it."

The men looked at each other, as though daring the other to speak first. "When have we ever liked anything you've given us?" asked Taichi with utter seriousness.

She stamped on his foot under the table and he yelped, kicking her back, while Jyou waved them to both settle down. "I can't ever take you both out in public!"

"No use trying to separate them," said Ken to Jyou, shaking his head when Taichi started flinging the napkins off the table at Sora and the latter stamped away like mad at his feet. "You'll just have to accept that they are a pair that can't ever be broken."

Jyou forced a smile, half-listening, warily eyeing as Taichi flicked a bit of salt off the salt shaker at Sora.

"Besides," added Ken, "it could be useful having someone around who knows all of Sora's dark secrets. It's like having a Sora-encyclopedia." He laughed, "God knows, I could use one for Hikari sometimes."

At that Jyou glanced at him. "Everything all right there?"

Ken nodded reassuringly, "Of course. But you know how she can be sometimes, just a little private." He paused, thinking, "Just like me."

They were interrupted when Sora shoved the table suddenly to get Taichi to stop flinging salt at her, causing the glasses of water to knock over and spill all over his pants. Taichi leapt up, cursing while his friends just laughed, and strutted towards the restroom to try to clean up. Jyou took the moment to lean over and kiss his girlfriend's temple. Sora smiled at him genuinely, rubbing his knee, as though she sensed a bit of the slight discomfort in his behavior.

"Aren't you going to open it?" she asked him, gesturing to the envelopes. Both men did, moving slowly enough for Sora's impatience, and both men's eyes widened in surprise at the same time when they saw what was in their hands. Sora clapped with excitement. "We haven't had a group trip in so long, not since before Ken and Hikari started dating, remember?"

"Isn't this…?" asked Jyou with hesitance, unsure, and Sora nodded, reading his thoughts right away.

"After I saw the photo series at that gallery opening, I had to find out where that inn was. It looked so beautiful! So I made some calls, and one thing led to another, and now we've got ourselves a well-needed vacation."

"It's amazing," said Jyou. He kissed her, "Really, let's do this."

Ken was surprised, staring at the room vouchers, "But it must have cost you a—,"

"When I finally found out what inn it was and called, they said they had been closed for a redesign. I offered up my company for that and this is how they're repaying us," Sora explained. "All we'll really be spending is getting there and back. What do you say?"

Ken was still stunned, "I mean, it looks great! Thank you so much, Sora. I think Hikari will love it."

"It's going to be so much fun!"

"What's going to be fun?" Taichi had returned, his pants slightly dryer.

Jyou gestured at them, "You might want to zip that up."

Taichi reddened, slightly embarrassed, adjusting the zipper and quickly sitting down. "What's going on?"

Ken showed him the vouchers. "Sora's got us all free rooms at an inn outside of town. Group trip! What do you think?"

Taichi was staring at the tickets strangely, eyes wide. Sora joked, "Well, I guess I really did manage to surprise the great Yagami Taichi." The others laughed, and Taichi at the last minute cracked a weak smile, swallowing hard. And it was at that moment that the kitchen doors opened, and the waiter arrived with their meals. He placed a particularly well-arranged plate before Taichi, adding, "Compliments of the chef."

* * *

_It was summer. He dropped the suitcase on the ground, grasping for the keys. She glanced over her shoulder, down the dirt road, as though she expected someone to be there._

_"No one's coming," he said to her, taking her hand in his and smiling. She went into the inn, curiously running her fingers over the peeling orange paint on the walls. "Don't worry," he said, whispering in her ear as he pulled her closer. _

_She embraced him equally as tight, as though she risked losing him if she let him go, even for a second. "I don't ever want to leave, for anything."_

_"Then let's never leave."_

_She laughed, "So we should just hide here forever?" she teased, kissing his throat._

_He cupped her chin and tilted her head so as to meet her gaze carefully, honestly. "Yes. Forever."_

_"__You're a foolish man, Yagami Taichi," she whispered, smiling. "And I am sorry I ever met you."_

_"Not as sorry as I am to have met you."_

_She breathed, fingers wrapped up in his hair, feeling his warmth. "Now, now, Mr Yagami…what would your wife say?"_


	4. Chapter 4

**Next to You**

* * *

**Summary**: When five friends plot to set up their adult children on a blind date, the result is everything they never knew they wanted. [AU]

* * *

_When the money's spent and all my friends have vanished  
And I can't seem to find no help or love for free,  
I know there's no need for me to panic  
'Cause I'll find him, I'll find him next to me._

"Next to Me," Emeli Sandé

* * *

At last he spotted it.

Grabbing a hold of the thin metal handle, Taichi gave a fierce tug and wrenched the suitcase free from its securely hidden spot at the back of the hallway closet. The suitcase popped out, turning over several more boxes on the way. He dragged the suitcase out into the hallway, squatting down and unfastening the clasps on the sides. Inside the suitcase was a lint-covered pair of unworn socks (at least they didn't smell worn), a few receipts, a lollipop that looked like it had been opened and then rewrapped (he made a face as he picked it up and gingerly tossed it aside), and a letter.

The letter was wrapped up in a torn envelope, faded with pencil smudges where a name was supposed to be in the corner, written in a beautiful cursive script that didn't match his own chicken scratch scrawl. He held the envelope in his hands, feeling his heart in his throat in apprehension as he gently shook out the contents, a ring, into his open palm.

Taichi looked at the ring for a while, blinking quickly.

In a series of sudden, frantic movements, he lurched to his feet and scrambled for his phone. He scrolled through the contacts list and hit the dial button, nervously pacing into his bedroom and shutting the door behind him.

The phone rang twice before a voice answered. "Hello?"

"I need to talk to you."

"What happened?"

Taichi sat down on the edge of his bed in misery, voice finally breaking. "I found her ring. She said she threw it away, but I just found it. It's like she left it on purpose, just to fuck with me again after—,"

"Taichi…."

He put his face in his hands. "What am I going to do, Dad?"

Susumu said calmly, "Tai, listen to me. Are you listening?"

Taichi could barely nod.

He continued, "Put it down, put it away. Go get your stuff and pack for your trip. Have a good time with your sister and Sora and your friends. When you get back, come for lunch and we'll talk. But for now, just enjoy your vacation and don't torture yourself out of something you deserve. Do you understand?"

"Yes," said Taichi, holding the ring so tight in his hand his palm hurt. He was about to hang up before his father spoke again:

"And Taichi?"

"Dad?"

Susumu's tone remained strong and knowing, "Don't call her. I mean it. Do not call her. Okay?"

"Okay."

On the other end, Susumu quietly put the phone down, frowning to himself.

"Susumu?"

He looked up, mouth turning into an automatic smile, on reflex to do so whenever he was called by name. "Oh, nothing. It was just my son."

"Is he okay?"

Susumu nodded. "He will be."

"Isn't he the one who—?"

"The divorce was a long time ago," Susumu interrupted. "But it wasn't the best of circumstances. It was pretty terrible all around."

"It takes a long time to deal with those kinds of pains."

"We still are," murmured the elder Yagami.

After a brief silence, Hiroaki stood up and reached for his friend's glass to refill it. "We've all made mistakes, Susumu. He's a good kid. Trust him."

* * *

Hikari stood for a minute in front of the mirror of their hotel room and frowned at her reflection. Quickly stealing a glance around her, she turned to view her profile and careful pulled the chiffon cream-colored top tight over her stomach, imagining what could be.

"'Kari?"

Immediately she stepped back from the mirror, letting the shit fall loose and running her fingers through her hair nervously. "Yes?"

Ken popped his head from around the door to the bathroom. He was dripping wet, hair drenched in small drops of shampoo suds, his eyes narrowed tight to keep the liquid from spilling into his eyes, "I tried calling you from the shower—I need a towel, they didn't replace the ones we used earlier."

"Oh yes, they did. They came while you were already inside," explained his girlfriend, going over to the small table by the hotel room door and selecting a towel for him, which he accepted graciously.

"I'll be right out!"

"Take your time," she said, "the dinner reservation isn't until another hour at least."

"Yeah, but I don't want to be too late. Jyou seems to be a bit of a mood."

"I think he and Sora had a little argument earlier today on their hiking trip with my brother. Taichi told me it wasn't anything serious, just normal crankiness after a late night out last night the three of them had at the bar, too."

Ken shrugged, "Maybe he just wants to spend time alone with his girlfriend on vacation."

"Well, sure," said Hikari, for some reason feeling as though Ken was implying her brother was the cause of the couple's normal, innocent tiffs, an idea that made her uncomfortable. She added, "But Sora did book this all for a friends' trip and we're going to hang out with each other on things like hiking trips and dinners out."

"I know," Ken nodded, realizing the slightly defensive tone in her voice and being quick to avoid an argument of their own. "But you and I spend the morning together instead of joining Sora and Jyou. Sometimes it's nice to do things on our own. Wasn't today nice?"

She smiled, "Yes. I'm just saying that Sora doesn't want to leave Taichi out. It's boring sometimes being the extra wheel. Imagine how Taichi feels."

Ken motioned to say something, but then changed his mind. "I'll be done in five more minutes."

She nodded and he slipped back into the shower, bathroom door shut again.

Hikari moved to her unpacked suitcase and pulled out the jewelry box, shifting through for a nice pair of earrings as she sat on the small bench in front of the room desk. It was an older box, something that had belonged to her grandmother and one of her most important treasures. It was lined on the inside with velvet cushioning, the outside a simple, dark mahogany carved with a beautiful floral design on the lid. Thinking fondly of her family and how this little jewelry box had been passed through the generations of women before, and perhaps after, her, she slid her fingers around the cushioning, admiringly.

And then she felt a little bump in one of the corners of the cushioning. Pulling it back slightly, she uncovered a small pendant that had been squeezed into the lining over time. Seeing the pendant made her breath come short in her chest, shocked at the familiar design.

She thought she'd lost this, years ago. The realization that she hadn't, that it had been here the whole time, after all these months, came like a strange wave of relief and panic, memories of a long-gone but never forgotten past flooding her sense.

On instinct, Hikari stood up, busying the pendant back in the jewelery box and burying the box itself back in her suitcase, covering it up with her clothes and toiletry bags. She grabbed her phone from her purse on the bed, turning her back to the bathroom door and opening a new text message thread.

_Let's meet again._

* * *

Daisuke glanced nervously at the clock on the wall of the café, then at his watch, and back at the clock. He frowned and tapped the screen of his wristwatch again in confusion, as though in disbelief that they were actually the same when he so desperately wanted one to be wrong.

His phone beeped and he looked at the message with a little resignation, as though sensing what he knew was coming with the text.

_Rain check for dinner tomorrow? I'm sorry, something came up. Holiday season is the worst time to work at this place. Xx_

Daisuke sighed, slouching in his chair.

After a long moment, he replied. _Anytime, babes._

Disappointed and dejected, he looked out the window just as the waitress came to his table setting down a small espresso.

"It's your third one," she said with a little concern. "Maybe it's time to switch to coffee? Or water? Anything before you jitter off like a wind-up doll. Can't imagine that would be a good setting to return to work on."

The joke made him laugh, but he didn't notice her slightly blush when he did. He made a general motion of thanks as he took a big gulp and placed the cup back on her waiting tray. "Next one is the last one, I promise."

She left for the bar to make his drink order and Daisuke sat back again, thinking.

It was the second time Mimi had missed one of their lunch dates. Not that she was the only one—he'd had to cancel when work came up for him at times before, too, so it wasn't as though he didn't believe her excuses about work. He didn't have any reason to distrust her. In fact, he wanted to be exclusive, and had been hinting more at it for some time now, hoping to have resolved the issue today if she had come to meet him. What with his new apartment, having finally left his sister's after a very brief stay with Hikari's brother, and the promising new job working close to his good friend—Daisuke was starting to feel restless about the idea of finding someone for a longer commitment. Meeting her, here at their café, that day months earlier had really been the starting point for all these positive changes in his life, and he knew he couldn't let it go, let her go, without exploring what all these signs seemed to be leading him towards.

He really liked Mimi.

And now, he wanted to make it _real_.

_But does she want this?_ he thought to himself suddenly, and sat up, surprised with himself by the doubt. He shook his head. _Don't over think things again, Daisuke._

"Actually," he called out, standing up while keeping his gaze on his wallet as he counted out the money he owed, "could I get that espresso—?"

"To go?" she finished for him and returning to his table. "Here you are," said the waitress, returning with a take-out coffee cup of espresso, and a bottle of water.

He looked up at her in surprise, "How'd you know?"

She shrugged sheepishly. "This is probably the tenth time you've come in and ordered four espressos, and the fourth has always been a take-out. Whether you're in here by yourself or not." She nodded at the bottle of water, "But that's on the house."

Daisuke smiled. "Didn't realize I was so predictable."

"Maybe I'm just observant," smiled the waitress in return.

"Well, I appreciate it," he said, picking up both drinks in his hands. "It's nice to know I've got someone looking out for me."

"Miyako," she interrupted quickly.

"Huh?"

"My name," she added with a blush. "My name's Miyako." She pointed at the badge on her uniform.

He grinned sheepishly, "Guess I'm not as observant as you, Miyako."

She smiled again, face redder than it had ever been now that she'd finally heard her name on his tongue.

* * *

Jyou was already sitting in the hotel lounge area of their floor when Taichi walked out of his room. He was slumped over on the couch in the corner, scrolling through a news generator app on his phone but not reading anything, still scowling to himself at the stupid tiff he'd had with Sora just moments earlier, the reason why he'd stalked angrily out into the lounge in the first place. He didn't know why he'd been so irritable lately, understanding that it was off-putting their vacation, but he couldn't shake off some of the restless energy he was dealing with. And whenever he tried to explain it to her, it just seemed to cause another dumb argument.

Like last night, when at the bar, he had leaned in to whisper in Sora's ear, and she had tipsily told him to scoot over for Taichi, who had returned from yet another failed attempt at picking up one of the hotel maids. She had laughed, "Just face it, Yagami, no one's going home with you!"

"You would," he had responded cheekily, wrapping an arm around Jyou's shoulders. "Whaddya say, Kido?"

Sora had screeched, laughing, pulling him off her boyfriend and ordering another round of shots, and whatever Jyou had wanted to say was lost to another round of friends first.

In hinsight, it wasn't anything but a bad hangover, truly, he knew. But all day he hadn't been able to stop thinking about it, about her and the way her eyes had lit up when Taichi leaned into her after that teasing remark, his arm around Jyou's shoulders but his eyes completely on hers—and hers, on him. They were friends, he knew, the oldest of friends. But this air of intimacy….

Jyou frowned to himself, turning off his phone and staring at the floor now.

Petty jealousy was the worst kind, because it's misplaced judgement led the harshest of destructions. He needed to be careful, to not over think or over react, to accept the honest truth that his girlfriend had always put him first, and had never given him any reason to doubt loyalties, in spite of whatever nagging tugged at his wounded heart late at night.

At least, he knew this about Sora.

_But Taichi?_

It was then that Taichi walked over to him and sat down on the other armchair, interrupting his thoughts coincidentally and innocently. "I am starving," he announced cheerfully. "That hike this morning really took it out of me. I feel like I have eat back all the precious calories I lost," he joked.

Jyou nodded distractedly.

His friend raised an eyebrow, "You've been kind of quiet this trip so far. Still hung over from last night?"

"Last night was a disaster."

"Hey, no one told you to try to keep pace with me."

"I wasn't," said Jyou in minor annoyance. "I was trying to keep Sora from trying to keep pace with you. You know she can't handle that much liquor. Why do you have to goad her on?"

Taichi laughed, "Because we're on vacation, Kido! Relax. Honestly, you've been wound up too tight the past few weeks. I thought this vacation would really loosen you out."

"I'm fine."

"You sure?" Taichi paused, "Sora and I thought that—,"

"I said, I'm fine. Just tired."

Taichi shrugged, "Hey, man, I understand—,"

"No, I don't think you do," interrupted Jyou coolly.

Taichi glanced at him curiously. "What's your problem?"

The other man paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts, before finally looking up and confessing in a low voice, "Sora and I were supposed to go to on that hike together this morning. And last night, Sora and I were supposed to be enjoying drinks at the bar. But somehow whenever I turn around, you seem to always be there, ready to join in on whatever—,"

"Yeah, because I happen to be staying in the same inn with the same friends on the same vacation," said Taichi, rolling his eyes. "Listen, I don't know what the fuck you're on about, but at least have the decency to confront me instead of making these snide remarks like we're in junior high school again. Next time, just tell her what you want instead of being passive aggressive with both of us. Don't dump your inability to speak up on me. Grow a fucking backbone, Kido—,"

And at that, Jyou finally exploded. "Just shut up!"

Taichi stopped talking, surprised.

Jyou stood up, trying to keep his temper controlled before saying something he would regret, fiddling with his glasses. "You know, Taichi, sometimes I think you put on this free spirited, devil-may-care act, this show for everyone, but the truth is it's not an act. You never take anything seriously or think about others before yourself. You were that way in school and you still are now. I don't trust you, Taichi. I can't trust you, not with her."

His friend blinked slowly in realization. "This is about Sora?"

"No, Taichi. It's about _her_."

It was the first time he'd ever spoken about _her_.

Taichi's disbelief that Jyou really had brought the one unspoken issue between them up drained the blood from his face. Immediately, whatever petty annoyance he had about their argument vanished, whatever amused dismissal he'd wanted to use with their useless insult throwing disappeared from his mind. Jyou had crossed the line, and both of them knew it.

Everything had fallen apart, before Taichi even knew it had even begun to fall.

His friend continued flatly, "You did it once. You really think I would watch it happen again?"

"There you two are!" exclaimed a familiar voice, and Sora emerged from the elevator near the lounge. "I've been wondering where you guys were waiting. I meant meet in the actual hotel lobby, not our floor lobby! We're all downstairs. We've got to leave now for our dinner reservation or we'll be late, so let's go!"

"Taichi's gonna stay in tonight," said Jyou calmly.

The other man did not correct him, still struggling to process what was happening. He did notice Sora's smile falter though, in confusion. "Are you not feeling well?" she asked.

Taichi very slowly shook his head. "I, uh…," he started to say, but then stopped himself.

"Let's go before we miss the reservation," interrupted Jyou, who walked towards her to take her hand.

But she didn't take it. She continued to watch Taichi carefully, in concern. "Tai, you really don't look all right. Do you want me to—?"

"He'll be fine, Sora," said Jyou with a little annoyance.

"I'm fine," repeated Taichi, but Sora was frowning deeply now.

"Why are you acting so weird?" she asked Jyou, pulling out his grasp and starting to walk towards Taichi, who stepped back again, shaking his head.

She touched his face in a very tender, intimate gesture, the concern in her eyes not lost on him, or Jyou. Her boyfriend felt powerless, the fear of what he had always suspected seeming to come true right in front of his eyes. And before he could rationally talk himself down from the emotional outburst he felt rising in his throat, he was speaking: "Fine. Then stay here. I'm leaving."

Sora glared at him, "Jyou, stop acting like a child—,"

"Do not call me a child," snapped Jyou, uncharacteristically.

"What is wrong with you?" she cried back.

"I'm not getting involved anymore," said Jyou angrily. "I'm done."

"Where are you going?" she asked him as he started to walk away, impatiently calling after him.

"Home!"

"Jyou!"

"Let him go," said Taichi quietly, watching the tall man stalk furiously back to his room and slam the door shut.

Sora had started to head towards Jyou's room, fuming in frustration, but then stopped at Taichi's surprising words. She stared at him. "What on earth happened between you two—?"

"Sora, we have to talk." Taichi looked at her with a deadly seriousness, heart heavy. "You need to know something about me."

She eyed him with slight suspicion. "Okay?"

"Do you remember Catherine?"

Her mouth opened slightly at the mention of the woman's name. "Catherine?" she repeated, confused as to why he would ever speak their estranged friend's name again, after all that had happened with her in those years that their close group of friends had long decided to forget. "What does she have to do with anything anymore? She left right after—,"

"I know," he interrupted tiredly. "And didn't you ever wonder why she left then?"

"What are you talking about?"

Taichi couldn't even look at her. "Sora, I had an affair."

She stared at him. "What?"

"I had an affair, I cheated on my wife. I didn't mean for it to happen, but I guess that's what everyone says." He sighed deeply, "That's the real reason why Catherine left. Without saying goodbye to us, to you or anyone."

Sora's breath stopped. "I…I don't understand."

Taichi didn't explain it again, knowing that the truth would sink in momentarily, too afraid to see the realization happen if he dared to look at her, and he didn't. "I'm sorry," he admitted finally. "I'm sorry we never told you. We couldn't tell you. I know Catherine was your friend, too, and neither of us wanted to make things harder. I didn't want you to hate me, too."

Sora was quiet, thoughts racing, blinking quickly as though to stop tears. And when he saw that, he knew he had to get out, to disappear before he lost everything. So he walked away, back to his room, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it. The panic settled on his chest, bearing the weight of secrets he had struggled so hard to contain for years, now unleashed and so far out of his control that he felt as though the room were spinning. He sank to his knees, head in his hands, gripping his hair in his fingers, eyes still squeezed shut.

How had it all come to this? Within minutes—no, seconds, everything, _everything was done._

And then he heard a faint voice call, "Hello?"

He grew still, unable to breathe.

"Hello?"

He opened his eyes, very slowly, confused as he looked around the room for the source of the voice.

But it didn't come from the room, or beyond the door.

And it was then that he saw that in his hands was his cell phone, and on the screen was an unnamed number, and on the other end was a voice that simultaneously made his stomach turn in fear and relief, and something else far greater than both.

"You answered."

It was a statement, spoken in disbelief.

A worried pause, "I'll always answer, whether I should or not."

Taichi rubbed his face tiredly, feeling so overwhelmed, and yet so calmed just from the sound of her voice. It wasn't supposed to be this way. She wasn't supposed to make him feel like this, and he wasn't supposed to have called her. Even after he'd promised his friends years ago when everything had fallen apart, even after he'd promised his father yesterday after he'd found the ring, even after he'd promised himself he would never let his world come apart so easily and quickly as to succumb to this vulnerability again.

But then here he was.

"You didn't have to answer."

"You didn't have to call."

It was his turn to pause, ever so slightly, "I'll always call, whether I should or not."

She didn't respond.

He took a deep, shaky breath. "I need to see you. Please."

Again, she didn't respond, and after all that happened so suddenly and so quickly, her final silence became the literal sound of his heart breaking at long last, and he couldn't stand it.

"_Mimi, please_!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Next to You**

* * *

**Summary**: When five friends plot to set up their adult children on a blind date, the result is everything they never knew they wanted. [AU]

* * *

_When the money's spent and all my friends have vanished  
And I can't seem to find no help or love for free,  
I know there's no need for me to panic  
'Cause I'll find him, I'll find him next to me._

"Next to Me," Emeli Sandé

* * *

At around four-thirty, Izumi Koushiro stepped outside of the front door of his parents' townhome, fumbling with the contents of his shoulder-strap leather briefcase in his hurry to make the waiting taxi on the street. Face flushed with anxiety, he resisted the urge to glance nervously at the watch and instead ducked into the backseat of the cab, slamming the door shut, "As fast as you can to the airport, please."

"Where are you escaping to this time?"

Koushiro let out a shout, sitting up sharply when he saw the surprise visitor sharing the taxi. "Yamato?" he cried in shock, "What are you doing?"

"I need to talk to you," interrupted his friend, dismissing the earlier inquiry and leaning forward to instruct the driver on an alternative route to the airport. "It's faster," he assured his red-headed friend before settling back in his seat again.

"Where are you going?" Koushiro asked, frowning.

"Back to the studio," said Yamato in a disappointed, matter-of-fact voice, as though annoyed Koushiro wouldn't understand where musicians usually spent their working hours. "What about you?"

His friend hesitated, "Well, I'm going to see a friend."

The older man raised a blond eyebrow, blue eyes narrowed. "Who?"

There was no use keeping secrets. "Catherine."

But Yamato didn't frown deeper, didn't make any remarks or comments. Instead, to Koushiro's surprise, he nodded calmly and looked out his window, face turned away.

Koushiro started speaking hurriedly: "I know I don't owe anything to her. I know it's not really to blame on me; we can't tell what happens or be responsible for other people's actions. But she was my best friend. I'm always going to feel bad for introducing them, for Catherine getting hurt like that."

Yamato just nodded, having heard this all before. Guilt was a terrible thing, rational or otherwise, and he'd been witness to Koushiro's wounded sense of morality. It was what brought them closer together, he always believed, knowing the redheaded young man was the only other soul in the world who knew the whole truth of what had happened, and what had come before. They'd met on that fateful night as well, though their friendship had developed only after, and over one reason.

Koushiro stopped talking, glancing at Yamato. He studied the man's masked expression and thoughtful blue eyes, the nervous drumming of his fingers on his knee. "You're not going to the studio alone, are you?"

Yamato shook his head.

Koushiro let out a sigh, the irony of his earlier confession about the truth of his weekend trip hitting him hard. "Hikari?"

The silence answered him and Koushiro leaned forward, staring at the floor of the cab. "We're pathetic, aren't we, Yama?"

The blond laughed lowly, "That's for damn sure, Kou. For damn sure."

* * *

Hikari took the street car to the closest stop where his studio was, squeezed between a group of junior high school students on their way home from baseball practice, sweaty and chatty. She watched them in their youthful teasing of each other, huddled close and intimately, with the only problems on their minds being the upcoming game against a rival school or the pretty new girl who the young captain had an unbearable crush on. The other boys continued to tease him, tousling his hair and poking at his ribs, asking questions about her and the note he'd been brave enough to pass along earlier that day. He kept turning his red face, shifting nervously on his feet, scowling half-heartedly and pushing them away, refusing to talk about something as devastating as feelings.

At last the tram reached her stop, but she almost neglected alighting, too lost in her own schooldays memories watching the group on the train. She managed to slip out just before the doors closed, dragging the rolling suitcase behind her. Following the directions she'd written down earlier that morning on a pad of paper, she cautiously walked up two blocks before turning down a slightly smaller street and coming up in front of a large gray granite building with nondescript labeling beside the glass door, listing the various occupants and their businesses.

She rang the bell beside the box for the fifth floor, as she had been told, and gave her full name shyly when asked into the intercom. There was pause, and then the buzz of the door unlocking and Hikari pushed open the glass entrance and slipped into the cool, temperature-controlled and minimally designed lobby.

As soon as she did, the elevator on the far left of the lobby opened and he walked out, looking flushed and nervous.

"Hey," he greeted, moving quickly towards her to take the suitcase from her hands, "I'm so sorry I couldn't meet you at the station. Were the directions all right?"

"Of course—,"

"I tried to get one of the guys to go with you, but at the last minute one of my sound engineers injured himself lifting the equipment from the truck and we had to take him to the clinic—,"

"Oh, that's—,"

"So I had to drive them up to the corner because he couldn't really walk, but he'll be all right in a bit, I'm sure. I was worried about getting back in time to meet you, otherwise I don't know if anyone would have been here—,"

"Yamato—,"

"I told the front desk to wait for you to call in while I was in the studio, but I was really too worried to—,"

"Yamato—,"

"And then I realized you were coming during rush hour on the commuter street cars, so I knew that—,"

Hikari stopped walking, took the suitcase handle from his hand, and hugged him tightly, effectively silencing his rambling with the familiar embrace.

"It's nice to see you," she said, smiling up at him.

Yamato grinned, hugging her tightly back. "It's wonderful to see you." He took up the suitcase again, this time holding her hand tightly in his other. "Come on, I ordered us dinner."

They took the elevator up to fifth floor studios, where a pretty brunette in wire-rimmed glasses greeted the pair warmly and took Hiakri's jacket, suitcase and purse in such a smooth and seamless operation that she wasn't quite sure how it happened or where her things disappeared to. Before she could look around the tastefully decorated suites, however, Yamato, who still hadn't let go of her hand in all of this, guided her into the adjoining kitchens, where a few of the band members and studio technicians were gathered over a few open pizza boxes.

Yamato barked at them to leave their pre-made pizza alone, to which the band protested they had, gesturing to the table, where a box clearly marked with Hikari's name in Yamato's personal handwriting sat, steaming and ready. One of the band mates stood up and hugged Hikari with one arm, chewing on a pepperoni slice. Within minutes the other members had also gotten up to greet their old friend, remarking on how beautiful she looked and how much she hadn't changed from the old days.

Hikari shyly smiled at them all, though her nervousness was beginning to wear off in favor of the familiarity and excitement of this environment, where the thrill of an unusual lifestyle, and unusual career and life choices, made the unbearable and suffocating mundane loneliness of her life at home even more alien to what she had felt herself longing for again.

* * *

Catherine sat back in her chair at the quiet, candle-lit restaurant and picked up her phone for the fifth time in two minutes. There was a text message from her cousin, which she didn't answer, and another from a co-worker at work inquiring about one of their projects, which she also ignored. Instead, she scrolled through her recent messages and came to Koushiro's, which stated that he would be there to meet her shortly.

She glanced up at the door when the bell chimed, but it was another couple that entered. They were young and pretty, starry-eyed and hopeful, gliding smoothly to their reserved table that was coincidentally directly beside Catherine's. The young man carefully pulled out the chair for his girlfriend, who beamed in gratitude. A waiter was summoned and a new bottle of wine was opened.

Catherine looked away, running her hand nervously through her long blond hair as she checked her phone again.

Then footsteps sounded close by and she heard a familiar voice apologize, "I am so sorry, there was traffic on the way from the hotel," and bend to kiss her cheek from behind.

She turned in her chair and saw her old friend smiling down at her. Koushiro squeezed her shoulder and she touched his hand with a smile. "It's no trouble. Have a seat, darling."

Koushiro did, ordered himself a simple cocktail after doing so and picking up the menu. "Are you hungry?"

"I had a late working lunch," she confessed, sipping her water.

He shook his head, "You really work too much."

"I love my job," she said, still smiling. "Sometimes I think it's where I feel most at home."

"Telling people what to do, you mean," he teased.

She winked at him, "I do know best."

Koushiro laughed at that, saying his thanks to the waiter who returned with his drink. The pair made their dinner orders, then continued their friendly chat over work, family, and interesting popular news, as they used to do regularly. It felt so natural. But it was only in the middle of the salad course that Kourshiro had the courage to ask, "But how have you really been, Cat?"

She knew what he was implying, but she wasn't interested. "I am fine." She paused, "I'm seeing someone, actually."

He looked surprised, but quickly turned that look into warm happiness. "That's great! Who is he?"

"His name is Iori. He's a colleague from one of our partnering companies. He's very kind."

"Well, you've never had any trouble with finding admirers, Catherine."

"No," she shook her head in agreement, musing, "just keeping them, right?"

Immediately his expression changed. "Don't do that."

"I know, I know," she quickly apologized, waving her hand. "That was silly of me. It's just that we haven't spoken in so long, it's hard a little, to forget completely."

He hesitated, "Maybe we're not meant to forget completely."

She smiled, "You don't need to try so hard, to care this much, Kou. Nothing is your fault."

"I know," he said, though it was a lie. He would always feel this way.

Catherine used her fork to absent-mindedly tear the leaves in her salad to shreds, thinking. "You haven't…?"

He looked at her, knowing fully well what she wanted to say but too afraid to finish the thought for her, to pressure her into anything.

She sighed, raising her face to look him directly in the eyes, so she would be able to see the truth in his response, "How is he?"

And Koushiro was honest. "He's good."

Catherine looked down at her plate again. "Good," she murmured. Another pause and then, "Do you think he still sees her?"

Koushiro sighed and put down his fork, sitting back. "Catherine, I really don't think we—,"

"You're right, you're right," she interrupted, nodding feverishly. She smiled at him, beautifully, happily, like she used to before the divorce. "Come on then, tell me about your life."

* * *

When Taichi arrived at his parents' apartment for dinner that week, he was surprised to see that Hikari still hadn't returned from her trip. He wasn't too put off; to be honest, he hadn't spoken to his sister since the infamous weekend trip to the inn, and he wasn't too keen speaking about what he knew would be her disappointment in his early departure and the fight with Jyou. In fact, none of the friends had spoken to each other, though Taichi had received a phone call from Sora the day before, when he hadn't been at home and wasn't in the place to answer a phone call. She hadn't left a voicemail.

The apartment was empty when he let himself in, so he wandered into the kitchen, fishing an apple out of the fruit bowl on the counter, then went to the living room to lounge on the sofa and watch some mindless variety show on the television. It was in the middle of one of the hosts' journey to a popular restaurant the program was going to feature that his phone beeped, alerting him to an incoming message.

Taichi smiled when he saw the message, sinking lower into the sofa and holding the phone tightly in his hands.

As he started to draft a response, the key turned in the apartment door and his mother at last entered.

"Hey, Mom," he greeted absently, waving a hand from over the top of the couch.

"You're early," she answered him shortly.

Immediately, he looked up. He knew what that tone of voice meant.

Standing up and pocketing the cell phone, he eyed his mother carefully. "Bad day?"

"No, it was fine," she said in a perfect lie, removing her shoes while still clutching the bag of groceries for their dinner in her other arm.

"Right, and I haven't been your son for twenty-eight years to know what 'fine' really means," he joked.

She did not respond, refusing to look at him as she shifted the weight of the bag in her arms and stepped out of the entrance and into the hallway.

"What's wrong?" asked Taichi, confused.

Yuuko said nothing. She stomped into the kitchen, slamming the grocery bag onto the counter and throwing open the refrigerator door.

"Mom," he called, going into the kitchen after her. "What happened?"

She shoved a head of lettuce into a glass drawer in the fridge, "It's in your best interest to leave me alone for a while, Taichi. Go watch TV and stay out of the kitchen until your father comes home. I meant it."

He stared at her, surprised. She'd never used that tone with him, at least not since he'd been a teenager in his more rebellious stage. "Did I do something?"

"Taichi, drop it," she warned, violently squeezing a carton of milk into the side door shelves.

"_Mom_—,"

"I saw you with her!" exploded Yuuko finally, angrily. She glared up at him, chest heaving and eyes prickling, though she couldn't understand why her rage was boiling over this much. "I saw you both outside that cafe of hers on the way back from work yesterday, right after you told me you were just at home, so don't you dare try to lie about it!"

Taichi opened his mouth to speak but she refused him.

"She ruined your entire life, Taichi, and just when I think you've finally been able to put the pieces back together and move on—I find out you've been lying to me again—_and about the same woman_!"

Taichi's eyes darkened, jaw clenched. "Mom, you don't understand."

She gaped at him, "I—_I_ don't understand? Well, then tell me what I don't understand, what we don't understand, or _Catherine_—!"

"Mom, shut up!" he yelled at her.

Yuuko froze, mouth open.

He immediately regretted it, but his pride was the one thing he shared on equal magnitudes with his mother, and so instead he broke his gaze from her and said lowly, "It's complicated."

"Taichi—,"

But he had already turned away, storming into the hallway and yanking his coat off the peg by the door. "I'm going home."

"Taichi!"

"Don't bother calling, Mom. I'm not going to answer."

Yuuko gaped at him again, hurt, but was interrupted by the sound of the door opening as both mother and son witnessed Susumu arriving home from work, tired and worn. He stared at Taichi's furiously dark expression and his wife's crushed face, but before he could speak, Taichi had pulled on his jacket and angrily shoved by him, leaving his parents alone in the apartment.

Susumu looked at his wife in confusion, and Yuuko turned to press her forehead into the doorpost of the kitchen entrance, eyes closed. "He's back with Mimi."

Susumu felt his heart dropping into his stomach. "No, he's not," he tried to deny it. "He said he wouldn't call her."

Yuuko just shook her head in disappointment, eyes tearing. "I don't understand what he's thinking. I'm so angry at him."

"Yuuko—," but she had already left for their bedroom, slamming the door behind her in anger, leaving Susumu alone in the darkened hallway, staring at the floor.

* * *

Mimi woke up early that morning, early enough for her, at least. It was her one day off from the café, and normally she enjoyed the lounging, lazy feel of Mondays while the rest of the world went on its miserable way to another beginning of the work week. She, however, always took her time stirring from under the covers, paddling into the kitchen for tea, humming along with chatty mid-morning talk shows on the radio.

But today she woke later, still dressed in the clothes she'd worn the day before.

Mimi lay very still, staring at the white painted ceiling.

Distinctly, she could hear the sounds of a familiar talk host chatting away from the kitchen radio, the scent of waffles and syrup wafting through the small apartment. She sat up, rubbing tired eyes, then carefully pulled herself from the bed and stepped gingerly into the hallway, peering around the corner.

The apartment was empty, the table decorated with a full plate of waffles, a full pot of tea, and the crossword puzzle from Sunday's newspaper spread out and waiting with a ballpoint pen, because he knew she never used pencil.

The door opened and she straightened, apprehensive.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi."

Taichi closed the door behind him. "Took out the trash for you."

Mimi smoothed the wrinkles in her blouse, holding herself awkwardly by the door still. "You didn't have to do that."

Taichi looked as though he were going to say something, but then shook his head a little and went to the kitchen to wash his hands. The radio host on the talk show program began a comedic tirade of a popular musician, whose long-awaited new album had stalled due to creative differences.

_"Well, we all know what 'creative differences' actually means, isn't that true, Makato? Obviously with the rumors of new producers, and cancelled shows, and all kinds of unexpected delays. They're not really trying to be discreet, are they?"_

_"I would take anything at this point. It's been nearly two years since the album was first suggested for release, flirting away with all our hopes and dreams."_

_"I didn't realize you were a fan, man!"_

_"I'm not raising any midnight vigils, Shunsuke, but you have to admit, the band has talent. Don't you remember their debut? All those teenage girls just squirming at the sight of Ishida's blue eyes—and heaven help me, they are mesmerizingly blue. I kind of turn into a bit of a teenager myself sometimes—,"_

Mimi turned the radio off suddenly, and Taichi looked up in surprise. Without the radio to distract him from them, his clear brown eyes seemed to read her every thought.

"Maybe you should go," she said just as he stated, "I think I'm gonna go."

Had they always been this awkward?

Mimi watched him cross the kitchen again, pausing at the living room table to pick up his wristwatch from the top of the pillow and folded blanket he'd used the night before on her sofa. Suddenly, she straightened and went quickly to the bookshelf near the TV set, selecting the one horror film DVD from her collection of romantic comedies and Disney movies. "You left this here."

His face broke into a sly smile when he saw the title. "Do you remember how scared you were?"

Her face turned pink. "I'm never going to finish it."

"You could if you wanted to," he said. "You should try it. I bet you could."

"I really can't handle horror."

"Give it one more try, come on."

"Take it back, please." Mimi pressed it into his hands, her fingers barely brushing over his in the exchange. She looked up at him, a slight frown on her worried face, the humor of their shared memories losing to the confusion of the present moment.

"Thanks for letting me stay," said Taichi. His honesty was sincere. "I didn't know where else to go."

She didn't answer, only nodding ever so slightly.

He touched a hand to her cheek, brushing a loose strand of hair away from golden brown eyes, thumb grazing a pouty, red lip. "You really are beautiful."

"And you really hate me," she reminded.

"No," he shook his head. "I just want to. Remember?"

"Maybe you're not trying hard enough."

Taichi smirked, thumb stroking her jaw. "Well, I think I tried pretty hard last night."

For the first time that morning, Mimi smiled widely, turning her face to bury her lips in his hand, kissing his palm and holding it against her cheek tightly

He didn't leave that morning, or the next.


End file.
